Page 108 of Where Broken Wings Fly

I wouldn’t have been able to retrace our steps even if my life depended on it. Once I nodded at Killian to his suggestion, he had swept me up and refused to let my feet touch the ground. I didn’t mind, my arms were around his neck, my fingers teasing at the lengths of his hair. As I braced myself against him, my legs wrapped thoroughly and intentionally, every step that he took towards the castle brought forth an increasing hardness that had me begging him to walk faster.

We were in his bedroom, the wooden door slammed shut, before I stopped for a breath.

I knew that the pixies had an animalistic side to them, a less-than-human nature and a streak of primitive urge that rushed through their bloodstream, but as Killian’s eyes darkened and he began a slow prowl towards me, I was quickly beginning to realize there was a whole side to him I had never seen.

I hadn’t even had time to look around his room before his movements drew all of my attention. He let out a low, dark chuckle as I stared up at him, perched awkwardly on the edge of his bed. The noise, the darkening of his face, the way his eyes were sliding up and down my body as if to memorize every inch — it confirmed exactly what I had suspected. As my heart began to beat faster and I crossed my legs to try and savour that feeling, Killian was… well, let’s just say I forgot all about Raegan.

“I should probably warn you,” he purred, and it was hard to look at him and see the permanently-grinning, chaotic-eyed pixie that I had come to know. I squeezed my legs together, trying to focus on my breathing and not disintegrating under his intense glare. “This just might ruin human males for you.”

“Men,” I coughed. He flicked a brow up, pausing a few inches away from the bend of my knees, staring down at me with a predatory slant to his neck. “We call them men.”

But even before we began, I knew he spoke a truth He was a male and I feared no human could ever come close to comparing to him. Not with the way he carried his shoulders, broad and wide, with rippling muscles that shifted with every minute moment. And that hungry gaze, that thirst that kept sliding over his eyes as he refused to blink at me.

I had yet to move, or say anything, for that matter, since entering his bedroom. Understanding this, Killian hooked my chin with his finger and tilted my head until my eyes latched onto his.

His mouth went to open, something primed on the tip of his tongue to say, but he swallowed the thought and instead curled forward, brushing his lips over mine once more. My whole body shuddered, prepared to simply melt into his touch. Once he had breathed that life back into me, he pulled away and flashed untamed mischief in his eyes.

Then he was moving. His lips, slowly and agonizingly, down the sharp edge of my jaw. Gliding, he moved towards my ear, invoking a short gasp from me as the heat of his breath skimmed my skin.

Something awoke in him as he found my neck, as his lips parted and the sharpened points of his fangs grazed my flesh. Bumps sprouted across my entire body at the short thrill — feeling such power and possibility in the tempting of his fangs. But just as quickly as he had lost himself in that haze, he snapped himself back and instead settled with just his lips against my neck.

It was there that his words, heated and breathy, skittered over me. “You have no idea how much I have wanted you.”

Before I could respond, my focus was stolen by his hand as it slid down from my chin, his fingertips just grazing the rising peak of my nipple. Gasping, he replaced the noise with his lips against mine once more, his fingers pinching and bringing forth a moan against his mouth. He smiled against me, a throaty-chuckle vibrating the point of contact between our mouths.

Killian, still sliding his lips over mine, his tongue occasionally slipping between them, slowly dropped to his knees. There, gently yet precisely, he used his free hand to wedge between my tightening knees, opening a space for him to place himself. Hooking my back with his arm, he yanked me towards the edge of the bed so that every inch of his chest was pressed against me.

On his knees, he rocked back and pulled me with him, until I was seated evenly over his waist. There, even through both of our pants of thick material, I felt him rub against me. As I tried to steady my own breathing at the sudden appearance, I slid closer to him. His lips still against mine, he let out a deep moan that shuttled itself down my spine and made me rock my hips a second, third, and fourth time, all the while basking in the guttural noises that kept spilling from his mouth.

My back pressed to the edge of the bed, straddled over his thighs, I made no objections as he quickly peeled my shirt away from me, revealing every inch of my breasts to him. It was, perhaps, the only thing possible of drawing his mouth away from mine. With a whole new level of hunger in his eyes, his cock still trying to drive itself through our clothes, he slipped his tongue over one nipple and started a whole dance of his tongue across it. It only made me rub against him harder, our breathing syncing and heating.

He groaned out some word that I didn’t quite hear, but due to the way that I echoed it with a subtle fuck, I assumed it was a curse. He rotated his hips, somehow driving himself harder against me as he continued to lap, each swirl of his tongue tortuous and far-too skilled.

“I need you,” I groaned, “Now.”

That mischievous little chuckle of his, far darker and more twisted than I remember, vibrated my already throbbing and sensitive nipple.

There was no need to tell Killian twice. He removed his mouth from my body for only a few seconds, allowing himself to peel his own shirt off in one quick movement. I was left staring — jaw dropped — at him, at the expanse of tight muscles and gleaming skin.

Then we were both up, where he finally set me down and glanced down at my pants that I was sure had an impressive hole now between my thighs.

“Those, off,” he muttered as he got to work on his own. Just as he had his urgency, I had mine. I had never removed my pants as quickly as I did.

For a moment, we savoured a sweet silence, an innocent pause as we both examined the other. I started at his face, at the dark features that normally carried such a natural joy but now were possessed with a primal desire. Sliding along, I tried my best not to focus on just how shaped his body was, fighting the urge to cover my own. But I gasped, yes gasped, when I got a look at what had been grinding against me for the last few minutes. It was then that I considered pixies might have been capable of changing the size of individual parts of their bodies.

He laughed at my wandering gaze, before he had me pulled against him. My body shuddered, my core tightening, desire pooling against my thighs, as he hooked one of my legs with his arm. A breeze rushed along me, sending a shiver through my body as the cold air licked at the wetness of me. But not for long, because that breeze was soon replaced with his hand.

As his fingers slid along, he let out another low chuckle, his mouth back against my neck where those fangs dared to pinch once more. Killian had far more control than I did, though, because I rocked myself against those fingers, letting my body find a rhythm that had me moaning and caring very little for the volume at which I did.

I drove his fingers from that bundle of nerves right down to the center of me, over and over, until Killian had enough of me using him freely. With his grip on my elevated leg renewed, he took his dripping hand and wrapped it around his cock, pressing at the tip of it in a dare to tease me.

“Please,” I moaned, feeling the air that separated him from me and wishing nothing more than to be rid of it. “I need—”

His tip replaced his fingers, finding the sweet spot almost immediately, while also reminding me I wasn’t sure if I was going to be capable of tolerating him. But he continued, his arm firm where it had my leg hooked. On the fourth swipe, he neared my core and rocked his hips in a way that suggested an impending thrust. But he was a bastard, because he didn’t.

“Killian,” I groaned, my neck growing sore from the way in which he tried to devour my skin with his lips.

He let out a low groan himself. “Say my name like that again.”